Chapter Eleven
Destinations
Sam was afraid.
It was a perfectly understandable emotion to be experiencing when one considered the ordeal he had endured since the Black Riders had spirited him and his brother Pip away from their anguished parents. Despite his valiant efforts to maintain his composure, Sam was only a child of seven and while he had shown amazing fortitude in the face of unspeakable evil, there was only so much courage he could muster before his bravery become a well run dry. Ironically, what finally exhausted the limits of his endurance was not further evidence of the terrible creatures that inhabited this world in secret but something that cut even deeper to the bone.
Pip had not spoken a word in hours.
Swathed in a blanket of dark within the dreadful place they were kept hidden, San crouched closer to his brother and placed a protective arm around Pip who had not spoken since they had been deposited within the confines of this dark cell with its thick bars. In some sense, Sam would have preferred it if they were able to see nothing. In darkness there was the comfort of unknowing but with some light slipping through their cage like an silent invader, they were allowed them to see what was beyond and what they had seen frightened Sam beyond his ability to describe. For his brother's sake, he wished and prayed even harder than mum and dad would find them soon.
For Pip, it was simply too much.
Little more than five years old, what he had seen engendered a scream that Sam had never heard him utter before and after that, Pip had fallen silent, saying nothing else. That was many hours ago and as Sam tried to avoid looking into the light, tried to ignore the sound of feet moving in the darkness, so much like the skin crawling noise made by cockroaches during their midnight forages, he knew that Pip's mind had taken him to a place where none of this could hurt him any longer. That more than anything else that had happened since this all began frightened Sam the most. He had tried coaxing words out of Pip but all his brother would do was sit there on the rocky ground, his knees pulled under his chin as he closed his eyes, clenched into a ball, rocking back and forth.
"Don't worry Pip," Sam said quietly, not knowing what else to say because he had tried everything to get a response out of his brother without success. "Mum and dad will find us here, I know they will. We won't be here for long."
As he said that, he swept his gaze over the dark cavern, illuminated by a torch for their benefit. He could see the uneven shape of the ceiling as the stalactites hung down. They looked like jagged teeth as they loomed overhead and made Sam think they were inside the mouth of some enormous monster. He forced the idea out of his mind because it had sent a fresh surge of anxiety through him and it was not as if he needed to be any more frightened than he was. Blinking, he looked past the bars, even though he knew he shouldn't. He could see them moving in the distance, scurrying up the walls like insects or moving across the ground, their hunched and misshapen bodies pausing to peer inside the small cavern where the two children were deposited, as if he and Pip were attractions at a zoo.
Worse yet, the main meal on the dinner table.
The Black Riders had left them here in the hands of their new captors and seeing them for the first time had torn the scream from Pip that had plunged his brother into his dark abyss. Even now, they stood at the mouth of the cavern, casting their eyes upon the two children at regular intervals. They were almost as big as the Black riders and were clad in the dark clothes that did not fit them well. Their hair was long and matted and their mouth revealed teeth that were like that of animals. Their faces were misshapen and grotesque and their words were hard and guttural. Seeing them had frightened his brother but when the others came, it was more than Pip could bear.
The others were smaller in stature but still no less vicious, their eyes were not human eyes and shifted from being fish to reptilian like. The ones the Black Riders called Uruks ensured that none of these smaller denizens approach the children. From their looks of hungered craving, Sam knew he and Pip were of great interest to these creatures who looked as if they had been residing in this darkness for a terribly long time. They hunched and they crawled, Sam observed as they were being brought to this place, moving over the rock as if they knew it intimately, not even needing light to recognize the terrain, feasting with loud, slurping noises and crunching sounds that made him shudder still.
Feasting on each other.
It was this that finally drove Pip over the edge producing that the frenzied screams that followed them into this cavern, mindless with fear, his voice filling every corner of the dark world until there was no escaping it. The Uruk creature had to physically carry Pip into the cavern, kicking and screaming. His struggles were so fierce that even Sam was forced to beg him to desist, certain that the creatures would think them too much trouble and do away with them for the sake of expediency. Fortunately, the Uruk found a struggling child easy to manage and slipped Pip and Sam promptly into their cells with little difficulty.
"Please Pip," Sam tried desperately to reach his brother once more. "Say something."
Pip did not speak and continued to rock back and forth wordlessly. Sam knew that only their parents could bring Pip back to them but that possibility seemed terribly remote at the moment. Sam wished he would talk because comforting Pip was the only thing that kept his own terror away. With Pip locked in this state of catatonia, Sam was forced to face his limitations and just how truly helpless he was in, for all his efforts at remaining strong. He had thought escape was the only way to reach their parents but Sam had come to the terrible conclusion that what lay in wait beyond their cell may not be worth the risk of their freedom.
The Uruk barked periodically at the smaller creatures that seemed to be stealing glimpses of them and it occurred to Sam that the huge beast was assigned not merely to guard them but also to keep them safe. Sam studied his surroundings once more, knowing that he would glean little information he had not already acquired earlier. The place still seemed familiar to him and he wondered why that was. He wondered how this underground world, with its dank stench of death, dust and rotting meat could spark a memory inside of him. However, every fiber of his being told him that it was a true memory, just like the Black Riders had been a true memory.
If this was the case, was the other real too?
His memories of the other were nothing tangible, just the sensation that he was supposed to be somewhere or rather with someone. For most part, Sam did not feel the void inside himself that yearned for something he could not explain, that brought forth a feeling that there was supposed to be someone at his side or more correctly, he was supposed to be at their side and was not. He had an idea that if he asked the Black Riders, they would know but he did not think that would answer him and maybe the other was why they looked at him with such hatred. Even though he could not see their eyes, he knew they hated him.
"We'll get out of here Pip," Sam spoke, noting the Uruk turning briefly to him at the sound of his voice, "mum and dad will come for us. They'll find us, even in this place," Sam said giving their cell another sweeping look as he slipped his arm over Pip's shoulders, "remember how we got lost once in that store and how mum came and found us? Remember what she had said when you were crying? Mums always know where their children are, even when they can't see them. Mum knows where we are Pip, even if she can't see us and dad? Dad can find anything. He finds things that have been buried in the sand for ages and ages and we've only been lost a few days."
The words had little impact on his brother but it made him feel a little better.
For a while at least.
*************
"Is it wise returning here?" Elladan asked as the station wagon pulled into the driveway of the Miller household, abandoned since yesterday afternoon.
"There's something I need," Miranda replied. "I would have taken it yesterday but it's a little heavy to carry around and we weren't sure what we were going to do at the time. Now that we have a plan, I need to get it."
"What is it?" Frank asked as they made their way into the house. Miranda had been closed mouth about it and gave Frank the impression that whatever she had come home for was something he would not like at all.
The house had not changed since their abrupt departure the day before. The effect of the energy wave on the city was revealed prolifically by glass still strewn across the floor from the shattered television set and various other electronic objects. Miranda paused a moment to bask in the sensation of being home, wishing that the benign existence she and Frank shared within this walls had not ended with their children becoming pawn of some mythological game of chess. Her reminiscing took but a moment to dispel because they now had some idea of where the boys were being held and this interlude at home was only so that she could retrieve what she needed to reach them.
"We shouldn't stay here long," Eric mirrored Elladan's words as he looked outside apprehensively. Considering what they had done since leaving Hans' home this morning, he would not be at all surprised to learn that the law was hunting them as determinedly as the Nazgul. "The power's not going to stay off forever and when it does, its open season on us."
"I don't plan to take that much time," Miranda retorted, ignoring the protests from her companions. While she understood their need for caution, she also knew after the events of the past day just how dangerous their situation was. They had been running from place to place, making up a plan as they went. The training that had kept her alive in the service was now telling her that this could not go on indefinitely. Luck only got you so far and it had a tendency to run out when you needed it most. No, she decided ruefully, they were going to need to be better prepared than they were to stay one step of the enemy and get her children back.
Striding across the floor, Miranda reached her piano and lifted the lid. She saw Frank staring at her in puzzlement as she rummaged through the innards of the instrument until her fingers grasped what she wanted. It was covered in dust and her fingertips did not like the contact, however, Miranda ignored the sensation as she lifted the small Chinese box, no larger than a humidor, out of the piano.
"What is that?" Frank asked in astonishment, having never seen it before.
"Insurance," she said quietly as she put the box on the dining table and opened it. Curiosity at what it might contain ensured that she had an audience when she opened it.
The first thing Frank caught sight of was the money.
Almost an inch thick, the wad of cash was in British currency and Frank's eyes widened when he saw that they were all one hundred pound notes. He thought of the holiday they had taken a couple of years ago to America where he had scrimped and saved every pence in order to finance and felt a little cheated knowing that the money was here all the time, secreted in this box he did not even know existed. However, if he thought he was surprised, then it was nothing in comparison to the documentation she produced from inside this hidden receptacle.
"What is this?" Frank demanded, picking up the small book and thumbing through it.
"Passports," Miranda answered, aware that the tension in his voice indicated he was angry.
"Passports?" Eric stared at her, mirroring the question that Frank had yet to ask.
"Yes," Miranda nodded, coming to the realization in the last few seconds as she saw her secrets laid bare that Frank deserved an explanation. It was not just anger she saw in his eyes, it was hurt. She could endure almost anything, save the loss of her children but even Miranda had underestimated how cutting it could be to see Frank pain because of something she did.
"These passports don't have our names on them," Frank looked at her with accusation. "There's one for all of us, you, me and the boys but the names are completely different. Why?"
"Because its insurance," she repeated herself even though it was no answer. She noted the others in the room were retreating slightly because this was an issue between husband and wife. "In case we ever needed to leave in a hurry. It was unlikely that we would ever need them but old habits are hard to break. It was a safety precaution for all of us if things went badly and in the business, it sometimes happened. For queen and country you sometimes had to wear things that weren't your fault but you didn't have to pay for it either. That's what those are for."
The explanation was woefully inadequate, even Miranda knew that when she saw the skepticism in Frank's eyes become more heightened.
"What business?" Frank demanded, finally voicing the question he had waited ten years to ask.
"MI6," Miranda said after a moment.
"MI6!" Eric exclaimed even though he meant to remain silent and let Frank and Miranda talked this out. "You were with MI6?"
"What is that?" Elladan looked at Jason in puzzlement.
"That's secret agent stuff," Eric retorted. "So you were a Firm operative?" He had done an article on the intelligence community some years ago and though he was certain that his story covered only the barest fraction of the truth about these organizations, he knew enough to understand why Miranda was capable of the things he had seen her do these past 24 hours.
"I was a deep cover operative," Miranda nodded slowly, "covert surveillance to be precise. I was in Belfast when I met your brother," she looked at Frank. "He and I were on a mission together and we got each other through it. I'm still bound by the Official Secrets Act Frank, I can really talk about what I did."
"I'm not asking about your bloody missions!" Frank snapped harshly. "Why couldn't you told me about this?" He stared at the box and its contents, "or about the fact that you kept a gun in our house where we have two young children!"
"That's not fair," Miranda returned just as vehemently, but she knew he was right. She had kept the bullets in the same place as the gun. If either Sam or Pip had ever found it, the consequences could have been tragic. "I didn't think it was necessary for you to know," she stammered and knew that it was a weak response.
"Miranda," Frank started to speak before he forced himself to take a moment to calm down first. After a second or two, he met her eyes again, in a decidedly more reasonable frame of mind, "I love you. I know that you have a past and sometimes, it's hard for you to talk about it. I never questioned that and I'm still not angry that you kept what you did from me a secret but the possibility that we may one day have to pick and run like criminals is something I do deserve to know!"
"You never asked question of Bryan," Miranda stammered, feeling shamed because he was right. Something like this should not have been a secret.
"I'M NOT BLOODY MARRIED TO BRYAN!" Frank almost roared. "He doesn't have two boys to worry about! Damn it Miranda, you should have told me!"
"Hey come on," Eric started to intercede, seeing the genuine pain in her eyes at Frank's harsh rebuttal. "I'm sure she did not mean it…"
"Stay out of this," Frank said sharply and Eric was about to respond when Elladan's hand dropped on his shoulder and indicated that he ought to remain silent.
"I'm sorry Frank," Miranda met his gaze after looking at Eric with a surge of affection at his efforts to come to her aide, as any older brother would do, she thought unconsciously. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I should have told you. I guess I was a little afraid of what you would say and I didn't want to worry you. I wanted to forget who I had been and telling you, even this small part of it, would have reminded me of things I don't wish to remember any more. It was never my intention for there to be secrets between us."
Frank softened, unable to stay mad at Miranda for very long but he wanted her to know that this would be the last time they had a conversation like this again. "I don't expect you to tell me everything luv," he said gently, "there are things in your past we don't' ever have to talk about but you have to trust me. I love you and nothing you could say to me would ever change that. However, when it comes to our family, I don't ever want there to be secrets between us. Is that understood?"
When he wanted it, his glare could be merciless and even Miranda could not help but flinch under that intense gaze.
"Understood," Miranda conceded gracefully, unable to deny that she deserved his rebuke.
"Listen," Eric tried again, aware that he should not be interfering but they had far greater things to concern themselves with at the moment. "Your kids need you," he reminded them. "I think this can wait until after you've got them back."
Frank dropped his gaze to his feet, agreeing silently that Eric was right and he knew that it was only his pride that had been injured. As much as it hurt, it changed nothing. He still loved his wife dearly and would continue to do so no matter how much she had kept from him. He would not deny Miranda her secrets but there were some things he had a right to know and he had made his point sufficiently. The contents of the box and its reason for being was one of those these instances.
"Is that all you needed from here?" Frank asked gently as he raised his eyes to Miranda.
"Yes," she nodded, her sadness at hurting him still apparent but Frank offered her a little smile, hoping that would convey to her that things were all right between them despite their quarrel. The moment was brief but enough to bring a corresponding smile to Miranda's face.
"We should leave," Elrohir advised. "If you were correct about other parties becoming interested in the Silmaril, we should not be here when they arrive."
"That's for sure," Jason voiced his agreement.
"Well I need to make that phone call," Eric reminded. "We need to get out of the city to someplace that was not affected by the wave."
"Then we head south," Miranda replied, "towards Roskilde."
"Roskilde, Denmark?" Frank stared. "What's there?"
Miranda met his gaze enigmatically, "an old friend."
********
Despite Frank's curiosity, Miranda was reluctant to say more although he sensed the reason for her silence had little to do with the fact that both Eric and Jason were reporters and the person they were going to see in Roskilde may not appreciate their presence. In the instance Malcolm Industries did send the law after them, a perfectly feasible possibility considering they had broken into the company's branch and exchanged gunfire with its security, they departed Oslo shortly after Miranda had acquired what she needed from the house.
They drove out of Oslo towards the border, pausing at Askim long enough to discard the vehicle they had stolen. The effect of the wave had dissipated long before it reached Askim thus the community was left unscathed. They were able to buy a used van to accommodate all of them before making the journey across the border. Although Eric needed to get in contact with Dominique to garner the information needed regarding David Saeran's German estate, he understood the need to put as much distance between themselves and Oslo before he made the attempt. Despite Dominique's feelings towards him, Eric could not say for certain whether or not he trusted the lady. Unfortunately, their situation gave him little choice but to trust the woman. However, before he made the call that could conceivably give them all away, he wanted to be as far away from where the enemy thought they might be.
The crossing into Sweden was largely uneventful although their first encounter with normal television programming revealed that the effect of the Silmaril upon Oslo had become something of a media event. Speculation was running rife regarding the cause of the citywide blackout with none of the so-called experts being able to provide an explanation that could be agreed upon conclusively. Theories ranged from a terrorist attack, to solar flares and even more outlandish possibilities that a nuclear weapon had been detonated in the upper atmosphere, resulting in the release of EMP.
Despite the furore of speculation that was taking place through the media, Eric was certain that behind the scenes, the people who really mattered were not so disorganized in their investigation. It made him grateful that they had left the Miller house because anyone seeking to discern the secrets of the wave would eventually be drawn to its epicenter. Fortunately, Eric was able to say with some measure of confidence that no amount of speculation could possibly lead to anyone to the conclusion that the powerful energy surge had been caused by a jewel no larger than his palm. The impossibility of it was the only thing that allowed them to remain safe.
They arrived in the town of Arvika, located in the heart of Varmland, just across the border into Sweden. The region was known for its natural landscapes that included numerous national parks. As they drove into the community, they found Arvika to be a mixture of urban life and natural rustic splendor. Deciding that it was probably best that they did not acquire lodgings that were too close to town, a quick trip to the local tourist office soon had then driving towards Glava Gästgård, a pleasant country hotel some 30 kilometers south west of Arvika proper. Frequented mostly by backpackers, Miranda was confident that this place would provide them the temporary refuge they needed for Eric to make his call.
Aside from Jason's obvious reasons against contacting the woman, Eric had his
own reservations as he stared at the telephone in his room, debating whether or
not he ought to proceed. If anyone
could find the location of David Saeran's estate in Germany, it would
undoubtedly be Dominique. Despite the fact that she was the boss's wife, the
lady was respected for her skills as a researcher before her marriage had
elevated her status in the hierarchy of the news division he was presently
employed. However, Malcolm Industries
connection with the network was not unknown. What if contacting Dominique meant
giving away their position to the enemy? The only advantage right they
possessed at this moment was the fact that the enemy did not know their
whereabouts and could not manipulate Frank any further than they already had.
Would Dominique compromise them all if he were to contact her?
The question swirled around his thought futilely until he decided the need for the information outweighed the risks to them and picked up the phone. Australia was eight hours ahead in time and the call would reach her in the small hours of the morning. Dialing the number of her mobile cell phone, he waited patiently as the tones indicated that his call was being connected preceding the ring tone. Eric held his breath, grateful that the others had gone to grab some dinner at the hotel's restaurant, because he would prefer to conduct this conversation alone. Jason had been unhappy enough as it was they were exploiting this avenue of information without being present when Eric made the call.
"Who the hell is this?" he heard Dominique's muffled voice through the phone and snapped him back to the moment. Typically, she was rather annoyed at being woken at this hour but Eric supposed it was justifiable since it was something like four a.m. in Sydney at the moment.
"Do, its Eric," he said quietly, holding his breath at her reaction.
"Eric?" She exclaimed, suddenly wide-awake.
"Yeah, it me," he repeated himself. "Can you talk?"
"Yes we can talk," she said hastily, "Robert and I agreed it was time we spent some time alone after our little episode at the party."
Eric felt silent a moment, uncertain how to take that. He did not think Dominique would actually leave her husband and the possible implications of that made him feel especially grateful that he was a continent away.
"I'm sorry," he remarked not knowing what else to say.
"I'm not," she said crisply, indicating clearly that she had no wish to discuss the matter further. That was Dominique's way, short and to the point. It was one of the things Eric liked about her. Most women seemed to be mired in so much insecurity. It was refreshing to meet one who could hardly care less about such things.
"Where have you been Eric?" She demanded. "We heard the archaeology team was killed and thought you and Jason might be dead too. If it wasn't for your charges to the company account in Oslo, we would still believe it!"
"I'm involved in something pretty dangerous Do," Eric started to explain,
trying to diffuse the anger he could hear in her voice even if it was perfectly
justifiable They should have let someone know that they were okay. "The archaeology team wasn't killed in any
freak accident, they were murdered."
"Murdered?" she gasped. "How?"
"I can't explain," he answered certain that she would not believe him even if he were foolish enough to risk her life with the truth. "I can only tell you that Malcolm Industries is at the bottom of it all. Jason and I are on the run and we need to stay on the run until we figure things out. We need your help Do, can I count on you?"
"Of course," she replied without hesitation, "but Eric what kind of trouble are you in? Why would Malcolm Industries want to kill the team?"
"Do, I can't tell you!" Eric insisted. "The information could you get you killed! Its already cost one man his life and may be two children as well. It's safer for both of us that you don't know. Please, I need your help but I can give you any more than I have already."
Dominique fell silent as if she had stopped herself in mid protest and was absorbing his words. "What do you need from me?" She asked after a long pause.
Eric released a breath in relief, glad that she was willing to help because while he was capable of finding out the information they needed, himself, Dominique had access to resources that could make the search go a great deal faster. With Sam and Pip's life hanging in the balance, it was an advantage they sorely needed.
"I need to know if David Saeran had any kind of holdings in Germany, in particular a residence. The company's PR people have accounted for his absence during last six months as the result of the Romanian fire. They're claming that he's recuperating at his German estate. I need to know exactly where that is."
"Why?" Dominique asked even more perplexed by the request. What did David Saeran have to do with all this?
"Do," Eric frowned, wishing she did not have the same journalistic curiosity as he because it could make things damned inconvenient at times. "I can't explain," he repeated himself, "I just need to know. It's important."
"Alright," she conceded unhappily, "if he's in Germany, I'll find out
where. However, I need time. Its four
o'clock in the morning here, I'll need to get into the office to find what you
need. How can I contact you?"
"I'll contact you," Eric replied, not about to give her that much information even if his trust in her had grown. Whether or not she intended to, Dominique could still give them away. "I'll call again tomorrow night your time."
By then they should be well away from here and heading towards Roskilde where Miranda had made contact with an old associate of hers, a gentleman named Voight, who was waiting their arrival in Denmark.
"I'll be waiting," she answered with a nod, "Eric, be careful. You're a hopeless bastard when it comes to women but you've grown on me."
"You're only saying that because you've heard the sex with me is so good," he said with a wry smile.
"Not according to Janice in Accounts," she replied sweetly, causing a broader grin to steal across his face. "However, I'm willing to risk it."
"What about Robert?" He teased.
"Robert?"
"Your husband, my boss," he reminded.
"We'll be unemployed together," she sniggered devilishly.
"Right," he laughed and then sobered, "I'll call you. Take care of yourself."
"Likewise," she answered before Eric finally hung up.
***********
They remained at Arvika briefly, staying long enough to get a good night's rest.
Eric could tell the strain was starting to show on Frank and Miranda who saw every night away from their children as a prolonged torture they could not escape. Frank was struggling with his decision to let Malcolm Industries wait for him to contact them. Both he and the enemy were trapped in the same cage of desire, their need for their master and his need for his children. As long as each held something the other wanted, they could remain trapped in this stalemate to infinitum. However, while the Silmaril was ageless and could afford to wait, the same could not be said of Sam and Pip.
They set out early the next morning to make the drive across Sweden to Denmark. Travelling southward, they journeyed down the coast road over the next three hundred kilometers to Helsingborg. At the coastal city, they were able to make the crossing from Sweden to Danish post of Helsingor before continuing onwards to Roskilde. As per Miranda's instructions, they resumed their trip along the Danish coast, bypassing Copenhagen completely before arriving at the ancient Danish capital of Roskilde.
Roskilde was an old city, having been established in one fashion or another since prehistoric times. Elladan and Elrohir sensed its age as they arrived in its principality, an insight Frank did not find difficult to believe since Roskilde had existed before the Vikings had made it their favorite route to open sea. These days, it was the central hub of the rural communities in the region and appeared to be the ideal place for an ex-company man to set up a business. However, what that business was, Miranda was not eager to divulge until they actually arrived.
They reached the farmhouse on the outskirts of Roskilde in mid afternoon. Miranda's 'old friend' had appeared to prefer a rustic life style and the farmhouse with its large barn seemed straight out of a picture book. It was a pretty place, surrounded by vibrantly verdant paddocks of green and a hint of salt in the cold air, indicating the ever present the sea not far away. Miranda had called ahead, citing that Max was not someone she could simply drop in on at a moment's notice. With a man like this, it was wise to simply appear on his doorstep.
Frank was uncertain of what he was expecting when the door swung open after Miranda had knocked. This cloak and dagger world she seemed so comfortable in left him truly overwhelmed at times and he had no idea what a crusty, retired secret agent was supposed to look like. He had visions of an old Sean Connery but was rewarded instead by a rather stout old man with a thick gray hair and neatly groomed beard in a cable knit jumper. Miranda stood taller than him as he looked at her with sharp blue eyes that saw a lot despite the thick-framed glasses on his face.
"Well you're a sigh for sore eyes fraulein," he grinned and embraced Miranda warmly.
"You don't have to lay the thick German accent on me Max," she gave him a look. "I happen to know that you were born in Glasgow."
"Blame it on my great grandfather," he winked as he answered in perfect English accent that was very different from his speech a moment ago. "Hello lass, how have you been?" He said, clearly warmth in his voice.
"Good," Miranda smiled, truly pleased to see Max after all this time. They had served together and she was one of the few people in the Firm she had kept track of despite the years. "Max, we need to get out of sight, " she said seriously, her voice possessing an edge that told him that all was far from well in that one question.
He paused but briefly and nodded before beckoning them all into the house.
"I thought you were retired," Max said as he lead them through the hallway and into his spacious but equally cozy home. Heat radiated from the open fireplace and inviting arms chairs were draped with warm blankets. It was the home of an old man, content to sit out his last years surrounded by books and the small comforts of life.
"I am," Miranda explained, "I took some time off after my last mission and didn't come back." She answered as they emptied into the living room and spread out accordingly.
"You mean Belfast," Max straightened up and met her gaze.
"Yes," Miranda stiffened uncomfortably, not wishing to discuss that subject with anyone, not even Max. "After Belfast. I got married. This is my husband, Frank."
"I know," Max nodded turning to Frank for the first time and extending a hand in greeting. "I've met your brother, Bryan."
"You know Bryan?" Frank exclaimed with surprise.
"Oh yes," Max said before barking at the housekeeper whose activities they could hear in the kitchen, to bring some tea. "Walther PPK, 9 millimeter 15 rounds magazine. I tried to convince him to go the P99 but the boy was so stubborn. Traditional.," Max frowned.
"Max was our weapons and demolition expert," Miranda offered.
Miranda introduced the others and ensured that she did not divulge that Eric and Jason were news people since the retired agent would be slightly apprehensive in their company. Men like Max preferred to remain anonymous, particularly when they were no longer in the business. It was part of the reason why he maintained a thick European accent in order to promote the illusion that he was a retired German expatriate and not an ex-MI6 agent. In their lifetime, there were many people who could be counted as enemies and even though they had left the service behind them, some dangers remained constant even if the job was no longer a part of their lives.
Miranda explained as best as she could the situation with Malcolm Industries, omitting any reference to the Silmaril and anything to do with Middle earth. Instead she blamed Sam and Pip's abduction on Bryan's enemies trying to blackmail them into divulging his present whereabouts.
"What about the local authorities?" Max asked.
"You know as well as I do, they'll be dead before I can reach them," Miranda said firmly.
Frank watched his wife converse with this crusty old man, speaking in what was almost another language. The danger seemed so common place to both of them and he wondered just how much danger her life had been fraught with. He wondered what had happened in Belfast that was so painful to Miranda that she would refuse to discuss it with such vehemence. He had seen how delicately Max had made the reference and still it was enough to put Miranda on guard, even if it was obvious how much she trusted this man.
"They could be dead already," Max pointed out with brutal frankness.
"No," Miranda shook her head and exchanging glances with Frank at that possibility. "I refuse to believe that. They're alive and we're going to get them out. As long as they think Frank and I will cooperate, they'll keep the boys alive.
"What about them?" Max looked at Elladan and Elrohir in particular.
"Their lives are in danger as much as ours," Miranda answered. "I can't tell you anymore Max because it will compromise you. You know the procedure."
Max nodded, "it's been a few years but yes, I do know how the game is played. So what do you need from me?"
"We will have a good idea where the boys are being held," Miranda continued, grateful that Max did not press her any further. "We intend to get them out ourselves but we suspect that the opposition will be heavy. We're going to have to fight our way in and out of there."
"You're going to do an extraction?" Max's eyes widened, "with him? The archaeologist?"
"Hey," Frank started to protest. "I can look after myself."
"Really?" Max looked at him skeptical and reached under the cushion of his armchair. He tossed something at Frank who barely had time to register what it was before catching it.
Frank stared at the gun somewhat taken back by the presence of it in his hand.
"Break it down," Max ordered.
"Max..." Miranda started to say.
"Break it down Professor," the old man insisted again.
"I can't," Frank stared at him bewildered. He had no idea what Max was even asking.
"You want to take this into an extraction?" Max stared at Miranda in disbelief.
"Give me that," Jason said shortly, liberating the weapon from Frank and starting to disassemble it before their very eyes. Jason's movements were swift and precise. He took the gun apart as if he knew exactly where every piece went before each disassembled part was promptly placed on the table before them in a neat presentable manner. In less than sixty seconds, the gun had been broken down into several components.
"That's breaking it down," Jason said helpfully and glared at Max, "listen, it doesn't matter who or what we are, we need help. Their children need us to go get them and this man," he said staring at Frank, "has kept us alive so far, so let's not underestimate him just because he doesn't know how to put a bullet in someone's head."
"I couldn't have said it better myself," Miranda said giving Jason a grateful look and Frank one of deep affection, "Max we need your help. They're our kids, not a mission or an extraction but they our children. We'll do everything we can to get them out alive or die trying. That's the kind of conviction that's going to overcome whether or not some of us can shoot a gun. Right now, I need your help to even things up a little. Can I count on your help?"
Max frowned, clearly unhappy at the situation but seeing the decision to proceed was never his to pass judgement upon. All he could do was offer them what help he could.
"Of course you can lass," he nodded after a moment. "What do you need from me?"
**************
From the outside, the barn looked like any other to be found in the area, undoubtedly used for the storage of animals, hay and all the other associated uses for such a structure in a rural setting. However, in the case of Maximilian Voight who could never remotely become accustomed to farming, the barn had an altogether different purpose. Stepping inside its confines, jaws dropped in collective astonishment as they saw what was arrayed before them in rack and shelves. Eric had thought the weapon's cache in Waco had been impressive. It was nothing comparison to what was inside Max's barn. He stared in astonishment at the arsenal before him and knew his shock was shared with just about everyone save Miranda who no doubt was used to such sights. It appeared Max had been nurturing a lucrative business in supplying arms since his 'retirement' and they were presently staring at his inventory.
"I thought Sweden had strict gun laws," Eric remarked as he looked at the weapons with morbid fascination.
""They do," Max replied, "but I don't sell to the locals. My clients prefer to use their weapons in secret. They're people in our line of work," he glanced at Miranda as if that explained everything.
"Is this really necessary?" Frank turned to his wife, uncomfortable about using
any of the weapons he saw in the warehouse/barn.
"We're not going the kids back any other way," Miranda replied, giving him a look of sympathy because she could appreciate how difficult this was for him. He was a gentle man who was, unaccustomed to violence. It was quality she loved about Frank even now when it would have been so much simpler if he was more like Bryan.
"Your lady is correct," Elladan added, seeing the difficulty in his eyes. "The Nazgul understand little but force and we must respond in kind if we are to free your children. We do not know what evil awaits us at Sauron's domain, we must be prepared."
Max raised a brow at the odd speech but added nothing further because he sensed Miranda would not give him a straight answer about her companions even if he did waste the time to ask. "So what you do need?" He inquired instead.
"For starters, I want six of the Walther P99s, a 1000 rounds each," Miranda began reciting, prompting Max to immediately start scribbling in a note book as his pencil struggled to keep up with her request. "I want laser sights mounted on both of them so all Frank and Eric have to do is point and shoot at the little red light. I want the military grade models with the recoil compensator, not the standard version and I want them in black, I hate the greens," she rattled off as she walked past a row of assault rifles and took a closer examination of them.
"These G36Ks look pretty impressive, are they new?" She glanced at Max, ignoring the fact that the men in the room with her were staring in mild amazement and open admiration. "They seemed to have upgraded from what I last remembered. These are the carbine versions with standard dual scope mount and folded buttstock?"
"Madam has excellent taste," Max joked. "Yes, they're new. They went back to the drawing board in the mid 90's and modified the design. They're going to be replacing the M4 in the US army. These come with two sights, telescopic and red dot, which might do your friends well since you only have to follow the red light to hit the target."
"Good," Miranda nodded, picking up the weapon and examining it, "its light." She commented. "Less than four kilograms. What's this?" She asked, seeing a fixture on the weapon she did not recognize. "It looks like a mount for something."
"Oh that's one of the optional extras," he smiled, "G36's can be outfitted with a HK AG36 40 mm under barrel grenade launcher. You probably won't need the bayonet feature."
"Grenade launcher," Miranda mused thinking about the Nazgul and what it took to kill them or at the very least, slow them down. "Alright, we'll take six of these things, outfit two of them with the grenade launcher and we'll need about ten thousand rounds of ammunition."
"Ten thousand!" Frank exclaimed, not certain to be shock or horrified, "you want ten thousand bullets?"
"The G36 can fire 750 rounds a minute, we'll run out of them in no time. Better prepared then not," Miranda said as a matter of factly when she saw something else that caught her interest. "You two," she called out to Elladan and Elrohir and drew them to the display cabinet where Max kept his 'specialty' item, "these any good to you?"
The twins stepped forward and took a closer look at what she was asking them to see.
"Yes," Elrohir remarked with a grin, "I think they might be."
*************
It disturbed Frank to no end that when they left Max Voight's farmhouse, they did so armed with more guns than he had ever seen in his entire life. Max had graciously given them what they needed free of charge because of his previous friendship with Miranda and what he called professional courtesy. She owed him, he said and to the people who existed in this odd world, a favor sometimes carried more weight than money or power.
While this might have been a way of life to his brother and his wife, for Frank, the notion of having to save their sons by use of such extreme force, bothered him considerably. He understood that the nature of the enemy they faced allowed for no other alternative but he was too much the scholar to ever be comfortable with employing violence to solve anything, no matter how warranted the circumstances. However, it appeared that violence was something Miranda understood clearly and knew how to dispense with considerable expertise on her own. It was astonishing to him how a woman who could nurture her family with so much love and tenderness could discuss weapons the way one would discuss the different brands of laundry detergent at a supermarket.
Being invited into her shadowy world still made him uncomfortable but Frank was practical as he was intelligent. While she intimidate the hell out of him with this new side of her, he was also rather fascinated by the woman she had been and still was to some degree. All in all, he was rather grateful that Miranda was on their side.
"Frank," she asked quietly as they sat in the back seat of the van, since it was now Jason's turn to drive. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," he met her gaze, seeing the underlying concern she was trying to hide under her rock hard exterior. "I'm fine luv, I'm just getting used to all this."
"I'm sorry," she swallowed thickly, her cheeks becoming a shade darker as the embarrassment of exposure washed over her at his seeing this side of her personality. "I thought I'd left all this behind me. I'm rather surprised how much of it is coming back to me. I know its a little overwhelming but things will go back to normal when we get the boys back, I promise."
"Are you under some impression that I'm angry with you?" He stared at her the way one would regard a mistaken child. "For better or worse remember?" He reached for her hand and kissed her palm gently. "This is a little overwhelming, I won't lie but all of it is you and I'll get used to it. Besides, I think its sort of sexy in a women behind bars sort of way," he gave her a salacious look that made her laugh.
"My husband," she sighed shaking her head, "you're mad but I think I'll keep you," Miranda met Frank's gaze and added, "I love you".
"I love you too," he returned before the sound of retching noises made him look over his shoulder to see Eric pretending to gag. "Oh grow you Aussie twit."
"You should talk you Pom," Eric snorted back and Elladan and Elrohir who had utterly no idea what any of this meant, decided that they would remain silent lest they be bombarded with these strange appellations that were undoubtedly insults of some kind. A hundred thousand years may have passed but it was clear the race of men was still very young.
"If you don't stop that, I'm going to stop the car and we can go right back home," Jason teased.
"Bloody Kiwi," Eric returned with a grin.
************
It was still daylight when he contacted Dominique again, hoping that she would have the information he required. Now that they had returned from the farmhouse, they were as prepared as they were ever going to be face the enemy. All they needed now was a destination so they could embark upon their quest to retrieve Sam and Pip. Eric knew that Miranda was anxious to learn if Dominique had procured her the answers they needed. He suspected she had other avenues of acquiring the information but she was reluctant to use them. Considering her past affiliations, Eric could only guess what those sources were.
Following their return to the hotel, they had gathered at Frank and Miranda's room in order to discuss their next step. Eric decided that this was the best time to make the call so that they could make their plans with the information about Saeran's estate in hand. He dialed her number once again, hoping that she was not asleep like the last time he called because it was still rather late Sydney time. However, his original reasoning held that a call at this time would be largely unexpected by those who might be watching.
"Do," Eric spoke into the mouthpiece as soon as he heard the tone that indicated that the phone had been answered.
There was a pause and an exhaled breath before he heard a voice answer and it was not Dominique's.
"Eric," he heard a decided masculine voice speak.
"Rob?" Eric swallowed thickly and felt his pulse suddenly quicken. The others in the room fell silent immediately and stared at him in concern.
"They gave me her personal effects at the police station," his employer said quietly.
"Police station?" Eric closed his eyes, praying that what he suspected Rob was about to tell him was not the truth.
"She's dead," Rob said plainly ending that hope with two crushing words.
Eric could not speak as the emotion overcame him. In an instant, his mind flashed to memories of her. Her smile, the way she felt in his arms, the softness of her body under his touch, the perfect pliability of her lips as it molded to his during their heated exchange, He could still remember the scent of her and how intoxicating she had been when he was with her. The agony of her demise reached up inside him like bile escaping up his stomach.
"How?" He managed to say.
"She was hit by a car on her way out of the office," Robert answered, his voice just as strained as Eric's. "They didn't stop. She was dead by the time she hit the pavement."
"Jesus," Eric blinked away the tears, "I'm so sorry."
"How could you bring her into this?" Robert asked. "How could you turn them loose on my wife?"
"I didn't know," Eric tried to defend himself but it was a weak effort because he would be debating that very question in the days to come, "I didn't think she would be in danger."
"These people are everywhere," Robert replied mercilessly, "why do you think I sent you to Iceland? You think that assignment was enough to repay you for how you humiliated me? I knew what they were going to do that's why I sent you. I've always belonged to them Eric, always."
If Eric was really listening, he would have been shocked but in truth, all he could think of was the fact that he had killed Dominique by his actions.
"I belonged to them until they killed her," Robert added softly before
pausing. For a minute, dead air was all
that remained between Eric and his former employer, a silence that neither
seemed to notice but was incredibly long for all the others in the room.
"Eric," Robert said after a moment. "Saeran's estate in Germany is in the Harz Mountains."
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